Word: shapelessly
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...comic part of a social worker, deserves special mention for his performance of a role which is somewhat too long. And the director, John Stin, earns much credit for his intelligent use of George Jenkin's complex sets, even if he, together with the playwright, is responsible for the shapeless aspects of the early parts of the play...
...Wehrmacht regulars who have long since sent their consciences on permanent leave. Steiner tangles with one of them, his Führer-minded C.O., and exposes him for the cowardly lump of jelly he is. In the meantime even the old soldiers die. Dorn and Kern are blasted to shapeless pulp by artillery shells. Schnurrbart is mistakenly murdered by a homosexual German officer settling a private score. It is a quiet day on the eastern front when a stray Russian shell catches Steiner. "Why are you bawling?" he asks the only old platoon member left to mourn...
...Santeuil has no such stature. The Master is young, shy, afraid. As in Remembrance, Proust starts his novel with the hero's memories of having to go to bed as a boy-"the wretched candle must be put out and he lie there . . . abandoned . . . to the horrible, the shapeless suffering which, little by little, would grow as vast as solitude." But Proust, with youthful naivete, tried to protect his own thin skin and his mother's feelings by pretending that he was not writing autobiography. In an introduction to Jean Santeuil, he declared the book...
...spectator that half an oaf is better than none. As for Anna, nothing like her kind of corset farce has come out of Hollywood since the late Marie Dressier delicately tucked a pint of hooch in her grandmotherly bosom. One moment Actress Magnani comes lurching on-camera as shapeless as a burlap bag full of cantaloupes; the next she is sleazing through the dusk in black lace with the toothsome glitter of a backstreet-walker in Naples. And she battles her way into a girdle of yesteryear with all the fury and desperation of the Royal Welch Fusiliers at Bunker...
...from the Bridge (by Arthur Miller) is a double bill-two long one-acters about life at opposite ends of the Brooklyn Bridge. The two are much farther apart in mood and merit than they are in locale. The Manhattan play, A Memory of Two Mondays, is a pat, shapeless picture of life in a warehouse during the Depression; the title play is a forceful drama about a decent man who is undone by blind passion and self-ignorance...